


The less time that I spend with you

by lulusonebluejacket (anomeganeyatsu)



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elu fic, I wrote this instead instead of studying, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, inspired by S3E5 Clip 3: Pécholand, probably, that couch is giving me ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 08:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomeganeyatsu/pseuds/lulusonebluejacket
Summary: It's a Wednesday when Lucas gets to see Eliott again.





	The less time that I spend with you

**Author's Note:**

> Because I had to write something when I saw that couch. This is posted on my tumblr too.

Lucas steps into the common room with a bit of trepidation. The curtains are drawn, bathing the room in a state of dimness. He spots the white sheet covering the floor near the wall where the god awful mural still remained. The cans of paint, still unopened, sit where he had left them last time. It’s been a week since Daphné had told the headmaster they were repainting the mural and the lack of progress isn’t sitting well with her. She finally put her foot down last Tuesday and pestered Lucas about the damned thing. He didn’t understand why he ended up being the target of her ire. Eliott should be at the receiving end of those disapproving eyes as much as he was. He was the one that offered to repaint the mural. Lucas was only the smitten fool that wanted to spend time with him. 

 _It’s probably because she has a crush on him_ , he thinks with a little frown. He can’t exactly blame her. Eliott’s a handsome guy—drop dead gorgeous really. He’s the kind that never failed to catch anyone’s attention. His beauty bordered on surreal and with the accompanying gentle and friendly disposition, he’s bound to gather the interests of girls and boys alike. Lucas still couldn’t believe he had actually _kissed him_. Had Eliott sleeping on his bed, had held and been held by him, and knew how his touch, his lips, his skin, tasted and felt against his own. He feels the skin just at the base of his nape tingle. The memory making way for a blush to steal itself on his cheeks. He remembers the looks that Mika and Manon had exchanged and couldn’t help the groan slipping past his lips. The blush intensifies and the desire to hide his face and never show it again rears its head.

Lucas knows that they know now. I mean, when you see a guy comes out from one of your roommates’ bedroom and said roommate walks around with a large bruise sucked on his neck a few hours later, insists that they were good friends and becomes defensive without any prompting, there’s only one logical inference you would make. Honestly, he should have checked first if Eliott had left any marks before braving the outside world. He wouldn’t have ended up looking like an idiot then. The only silver lining he had was the fact that Manon and Mika hadn’t mentioned anything. Which, really, is more than Lucas could ask for.

And with Eliott’s continuing absence, Lucas just isn’t ready to talk about it.

He’s not sure why he hasn’t messaged Eliott. He has his number. He could just open up his Telegram and send him a quick message. Ask how he was doing, see if he was free to hangout, tell him how he much he misses him and wants to see him badly.

But he hasn’t. He couldn’t seem to make his fingers tap out a simple message.

Ever since he woke up that Saturday afternoon, all he did was lie in bed, listen to music and stare at the opened conversation with Eliott on his phone. He waits. And waits. And waits. But the screen doesn’t change.

No new message appears.

Eliott remains absent.

The glowing warmth inside his chest dims and slowly ceases to exist. He feels numb all over. The hours he had spent with Eliott feels more like a dream more than anything. He aches but all he could do is stare sightlessly at his ceiling. When night came, he gave the room back to Manon. He wasn’t that bothered when they stayed late in the living room watching TV. He has long recognized the sign of a sleepless night.

It’s been four days and sleep still proves itself elusive. So far, the only rest he got was a couple stolen minutes in between classes and the small hours in the early morning. It was finally getting to him, the exhaustion settling deep in his bones and accompanying him the rest of the way. He doesn’t want to stay in school for much longer. In fact, he wanted to at least grab a few hours on his bed. Manon had insisted he use it and Lucas was too damn tired to argue. Unfortunately, Daphné had other ideas.

Which is how he found himself standing in the middle of the common room on a Wednesday afternoon. Daphné wanted the mural repainted and she wasn’t taking any of Lucas’ excuses anymore. He would have admitted by then that he had lied and had no fucking idea how to paint—unless you counted the several articles he had read on mural painting and the point-by-point wikiHow article on repainting a wall (He has them bookmarked but no one needs to know that). But by some chance, or divine orchestration if he were to believe in such a thing, his phone pinged of a message received that Tuesday. And lo and behold, it was from Eliott.

_Are you free Wednesday at 13h?_

_Daphné wants us to start on repainting the mural, preferably this week._

Lucas had no idea how to feel. He had stared at his phone for several minutes. Just reading and re-reading the message. He remembered the first time they scheduled meeting up in school. Remembered sitting there and waiting for more than an hour, only for Eliott not to show up. The disappointment weighed heavily in his stomach, the anger at himself biting and burning and the hurt pierced his heart like a million tiny needles. But he also remembered the sight of Eliott with dark bruises under his eyes. The sound of his raspy voice. The state of his hair from messily styled to a clear representation of his anxious hands. He could vividly see Eliott’s subdued self, along with the sincerity in his eyes and the little smile on his face as he asked Lucas for forgiveness. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Eliott, but Lucas knew he at least deserved to be given the benefit of the doubt.

There was also one thing he was indubitably certain of: He wanted to see Eliott, _badly_.

So, with shaking thumbs, he typed out, “Yeah, I’ll see you then,” and sent it. Eliott replied with a picture of a raccoon, looking happy and sending out a flying kiss. Lucas couldn’t stop the smile from etching itself on his lips.

Like that Wednesday, Lucas arrived half an hour earlier than the stated time. He was hoping that Eliott was already there but sadly, he wasn’t.

It’s been five minutes since and the exhaustion from his lack of sleep is making itself known. Lucas knows he’s fighting a losing battle with his eyelids. His mouth cracks open with a yawn and tears slide down from the corner of his eyes.

“Fifteen minutes,” he mutters to himself. That should be enough for a power nap. He makes his way to the couch. He’s thankful that Daphné made the effort of cleaning it and providing clean sheets. She may have been a little annoying, but she’s a blessing. He drops his bag on one the other chairs. Daphné would probably be overjoyed that he’s using this the way she intended it to. He flops onto it and curls up; he doesn’t remember falling asleep.

 

 

In the darkness that surrounded him, a gentle hand on his nape is what grounded him. Long fingers make their way to the short hairs at the base, softly scratching and running through them. The touch rouses Lucas from his dreamless sleep and his eyes slowly flutter open to stare unseeingly. The hand continues to caress his sleep-rumpled tresses and he tries to blink away the last remnants of Hypnos’ hold on his consciousness but it persistently clings. Lucas turns his face where he feels the dip of the added weight. He sees a thigh clad in a familiar pair of dark jeans. His nose is tickled by a familiar scent and he breathes it in. He presses his face to that thigh, closed his eyes once more and lets himself drown in the comfort and safety the touch has begun to instill in him.

“Lucas?” Eliott’s soft melodious voice asks him.

He hums and his hand reaches out to grab Eliott, arm hooking around the taller boy’s middle.

“Lucas come on, wake up for me. This couch can’t be good for your back, let me take you home.” He hears him say but Lucas’ mind has begun to sink into unconsciousness again. The warmth and familiar feel of Eliott’s body bringing him back to that Saturday morning and how easy it was to fall asleep. “Lu?”

“Five more minutes,” he mumbles sleepily.

“Five?”

Lucas grunts. “Five, then we’ll repaint the stupid ugly mural.” He buries his face closer to Eliott’s thigh.

Eliott’s light laughter echoes in the empty room. His long fingers card through Lucas’ hair gently and the younger brunette sighs contently. “Okay,” Eliott acquiesces. “Five more minutes.” Warm breaths ruffles the hair on his forehead before a pair of lips brush against the skin there.

Lucas smiles and for the second time that day, he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a line from the song Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan.


End file.
